


Just for the Record

by Schmidt1012



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Benny Lafitte Has Self-Worth Issues, Benny Lafitte Lives, Bunker's Hallway Has Great Acoustics, Crack and Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Sam Winchester Deserves to be Happy, accidental love confession, mentions of assisted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmidt1012/pseuds/Schmidt1012
Summary: There's a fleeting thought that a couple of inches of bourbon would do him good, to calm this uneasiness, to keep him warm in his cold bed, or to simply get shit-faced to forget everything. But he ignored it, with great effort. He's unlike Dean who'd just grab the nearest bottle whenever things didn't pan out according to plan. Instead, he focused on the memory of Eileen's kind eyes, the smell of her hair, her cheeky smile, and how much he missed her.Or the one where Benny's "death" didn't happen and Sam is dealing with Eileen leaving.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Just for the Record

**Author's Note:**

> _"I don’t know why things happen the way they do—why so much of our lives have been spent in heartache and disappointment. Wrong timing. The wrong people. Unhappy situations. Not being our best and truest selves._
> 
> _What I do know is that in you, I have finally found all I never dared dream I could deserve or have—the kind of love that is rare. Being known in a way that touches the deepest parts of me. Accepted in a way that blows my mind._
> 
> _In you, the love I have always desired to give now has a place to call home. I have been a skeptic, but you are my undeniable miracle._
> 
> _The questions don’t matter anymore._
> 
> _We have finally found each other, and that is enough."_   
>  **John Mark Green, The Undeniable Miracle**
> 
> \---
> 
> Title is from Ruston Kelly's song [Just For The Record.](https://open.spotify.com/track/1M1wgOXQ5NiiCMarJtu4mY)
> 
> Mistakes are all mine.

* * *

* * *

Three days. It had been three days since all hope was lost, and the day she had left.

The ghost of her lips still lingered against his as he jolted awake with a memory of her walking out the bunker's door.

_Eileen._

No matter how Sam had tried, he couldn't convince her to stay. He couldn't blame her, though. What Chuck had done would mess up anyone's head, bringing her back from the grave and for what, a scripted romance? As if playing God wasn't enough, who would've thought Chuck would resort to taking the role of a Cupid to spy on the Winchesters. To win this little game of chess of his.

Right, he and Dean were just pawns. Toys. Mere puppets. This was nothing but a losing game. Right from the very beginning, their fight was one-sided, rigged. And like all rivers, no matter how he and Dean struggled to dig their own path, there's only one ending for both of them, death. He'd seen them, every possible outcome of their sad, inevitable demise. Chuck had forcibly shown them to him.

And this reality was no different than the rest.

 _There's no winning this shit_ , Sam thought bitterly as he expelled a trembling breath.

With a groan, he sat up on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face awake, ignoring the tremor in his hands.

2:48, said the digital clock on his nightstand.

After two nights of restlessness, it seemed he had finally got some decent sleep – four hours straight, no cold sweats, and only a depressing dream. Believe it or not, that's a win in his book. He had worse.

Yeah. He had worse.

There's a fleeting thought that a couple of inches of bourbon would do him good, to calm this uneasiness, to keep him warm in his cold bed, or to simply get shit-faced to forget everything. But he ignored it, with great effort. He's unlike Dean who'd just grab the nearest bottle whenever things didn't pan out according to plan. Instead, he focused on the memory of Eileen's kind eyes, the smell of her hair, her cheeky smile, and how much he missed her.

He needed her now more than ever. NO. He _wanted_ her now more than ever. 

He. Wanted. Her. 

He had known it since day one, since he and Dean had worked with her for the first time. Banshee. Right here in Lebanon, Kansas. He remembered it as if it was only yesterday. Something clicked right then and there and little did he know, he was falling.

That was before Chuck had interfered. 

_Eileen._

The thought of losing her again got his heart pounding in his chest. All of a sudden, Sam couldn't breathe. Cold sweat beading on his forehead. An image of Eileen laying cold in a morgue flashed into his mind. Horror filled his guts within a fraction of a second and before he knew it, he was stumbling outside his room, barefooted.

His room was suffocating. No. The first time Eileen had died had shattered him into pieces, and it was all coming back to him with unrelenting force, squeezing his heart and robbing him of air. Losing her once was enough heartbreak, he couldn't do it again. He didn't know what he would do if he lose her—

“Stop it,” he gritted out, halting that grim thought. He clutched his forehead and took long, slow breaths to keep himself from spiraling.

“ _That's it, Sam. Breathe,_ ”

In contrast to the wall's hard, cool concrete against his back, as he fell ass-flat on the floor, Eileen's encouraging voice echoing in his head was soft and warm. 

“ _Slowly. Good, good. Now hold it this time. That's it. Now exhale. Come on, you can do it, Sam. Breathe. That's it. You're doing great. Let's count Mississippis this time, okay?”_

Inhale.

_One Mississipp. Two Mississippi._

Exhale.

_One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi…_

Minutes later, after some controlled breathing under the ghost of Eileen's voice, Sam found himself on his feet again, feeling a bit better and aimlessly pacing in the bunker's bare hallway. It felt emptier, somehow, albeit its new residents. There should be at least one person in the war room or library, but no one seemed around. It’s awfully quiet.

Or that’s what Sam thought.

He was about to return to his room when his ears caught Dean’s frustrated voice, as though his brother was having an argument with someone. And judging by how it bounced off the tiled halls, barely reaching him from where he stood, he figured his brother was in the bunker’s shared bathroom.

“What's your point, Benny, that I've been a crappy friend? Because I already know that.”

Sam edged closer to the source until he heard Benny's drawl.

“Naw, we both know you did what you had to do, chief. All I'm saying was if this is going to be like before, then why don't we just save us the time and heartbreak and send me back—”

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dean burst out. “After all that trouble, dragging you out of Purgatory's asshole, you're telling me you want to go back in again? You can't just change your mind like that!”

“Why not?” Benny countered. “Don't you think I'm better off gone?”

Dean didn’t answer, and Sam could practically see Dean’s teary-eyed expression.

Silence filled the empty hallways. It stretched long enough for Sam to begin to contemplate if he should withdraw back to his room. He shouldn't be here, or at least shouldn't be listening to those two having an argument. They reminded him of his and Eileen’s conversation, only now it seemed it was Dean’s turn to lose his vampire, with Benny wanting to be sent back to Purgatory.

 _What is Dean’s deal with Benny anyways?_ Sam dared not to think about it.

"I'm still pissed at you for not coming back, you know that?” Dean finally said, with a shake in his voice. “I've told you we're gonna fix everything but did you come back? No. Do you think burying your body was fun, huh?”

“It wasn't easy at my end, too, you know.” In contrast to Dean's booming voice, Benny's words barely reached Sam’s ears.

“Sure. That's why you jumped the gun the moment you found an easier way to kill yourself, am I right? Seriously, Benny, assisted-suicide? That's possibly the dickest dick move you could've possibly made me do. You know how difficult it was for me? Your blood was in my hands, man.”

“And don't you think that's a good reason for me to go, chief? I've caused you enough trouble so why not keep things the way they're supposed to be.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That I let you down, Dean. That I hurt you. That I don’t belong and have no reason to be here, don't you get that?” Benny's voice cracked as he said those words with great difficulty. A sniffle echoed from the bathroom and seconds later, Benny let out a long, trembling sigh, as if trying to recompose himself. “I was fine back in Purgatory, Dean.”

“Then why did you come back with me?” Dean's voice was softer now.

“Because…” Benny started but nothing else followed.

“Okay, I get it.” Dean surrendered, as though understanding the words that hadn't left Benny's lips.

The tension between those two seemed to dissipate after that, and for a moment of curiosity Sam wondered what those two were doing. There were muffled shuffling and exchanges of hushed words his straining ears couldn't pick up. An idea came to mind but that’s a can of worms he had not got the guts to pry open.

“Purgatory was never the same without you in it.” Sam heard Benny say. “There ain't nobody to trust… to talk with. Was always on the run. Couldn't even sleep a wink.”

“That hard, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“But you're still alive.”

Benny snorted.

“You know what I mean, you asshole.” Dean said, and Sam could hear the smile in it. A short silence followed before Dean added, his tone more serious, “You should stay.”

“Can't,” Benny answered without missing a beat. 

“Benny...”

“Come on, Dean. You and I both know it just ain’t possible, right?”

“And why is that?” Dean demanded. There was no answer from Benny, so he went on with an audible sigh. “Listen, man, I want you here and that's enough reason for you to stay, you hear me? I want you here.” Still no reply. “If this is about Sam then he just has to deal with it. I know you're weary of him, chopping your head off, but give him a chance. Besides, if you really want your one-way ticket back to Purgatory that bad, then he's your best shot.”

Sam was a little offended by that last part. If he wasn’t eavesdropping, then he’d be marching his ass to where those two were to clarify that he wasn’t against Benny living in the bunker – sleeping in Dean's room. In fact he also wanted Benny to stay. And not just for practical reasons, too, but because of how much the vampire made Dean happy ever since he had came back from Purgatory. To be honest, it’s been a while since Sam had seen his brother this relaxed.

It’s good that Dean’s happy when they should be grieving for the inevitable, Sam hopelessly thought out of the blue; the thought of their upcoming fight against Chuck began to slowly creep back into his mind. He then quickly shook his head, not wanting to go back in that headspace, and involuntarily took a step back until his back hit a wall.

 _Snap out of it_.

Sam held his head between his hands and tried his best not to pull his hair out of frustration. He didn’t have to, though, the sounds of gasps and undeniable moans coming from the bathroom jerked him back from his thoughts. 

“Then tell me what you want, Benny. What can I do to make you stay?”

“This,” Benny answered, “Where do you think this is going? What are we— What is all this, Dean?”

“I-I don't know.”

“Just tell me.”

“Benny.”

“Please,” Benny begged, his voice hitching with emotion. “You have to tell me now 'cause I ain't letting myself to fall in love again. 'Cause getting over you was the hardest thing that I ever had to do. I don't think I could do it again.”

“You were in love—?”

“Not that it matters, Dean. What's important is we have to end this as soon as… before I… damn it.” Benny let out a self-deprecating laugh in an attempt to cover the tremors in his voice. “Look at me, getting all emotional over nothing.”

“Hey, hey.” Dean was quick to comfort Benny. The sound of clothes shuffling muffled Benny’s stuttering breaths. “Don’t you go sappy on me.”

Benny choked out a weak laugh at that. “That’s Dean Winchester for you.”

“Asshole,” Dean snickered after what it seemed was pressing a kiss on Benny’s hand – or temple, who knows. Benny followed suit, and for a moment they were both chucking until both of them fell silent. “You good?”

“I’d be lying if I said yes, chief,” Benny said flatly, and Sam could pick up the underlying hurt in his voice. “It’s just... I can’t do it all over again, you know.”

“I know, I know. And just for the record, whatever this is… this thing between us. I want you to understand that this ain’t just _nothing_.”

“Then what is this, Dean? How does this work? You have to give me something here, ‘cause if this is like the last time, you stringing me along before finally cutting me off, then I don’t think this will ever gonna work.”

“Jesus, Benny, you don’t hold back with your questions, do you. Listen, I want you here and that means something. I. _Want_. You. I’d say it differently – more flowery or something – but you know I ain’t good with words, so you gotta understand.”

“And what, you just want me to see where this goes?”

“Benny,” Dean breathed out, a fond exasperation in his tone, “I already know where this is going.”

A full three seconds of silence passed until it was Benny's turn to let out a defeated and somewhat relieved breath. “I swear, Dean Winchester, if you’re stealing quotes from one of them romantic poems then I…”

“Then what?” Dean challenged, “‘Cause if that’s what it takes to make you stay, then so be it. I’ll throw every John Mark Green quote that I know at you. They’re not a lot but you’re in one hell of a ride, buddy.”

The conversation went on but it was drowned out by Sam’s bare footsteps as he retreated back to his room. He had heard enough. It took him less than a minute with his long strides, and once inside he slammed the door shut. A feeling of relief with a tinge of jealousy surged through his body. Whatever was happening in the bathroom, he sensed that it wouldn’t end up like him and Eileen. And damn it, he would do anything for his brother to enjoy this fleeting moment of happiness.

* * *

_Need to piss._

It’s been half an hour since Sam had withdrawn to his room. Sleep didn’t come easy but that was expected. It had given him the time to collect himself, thinking he's ready to continue researching on how to defeat Chuck. Dean and Castiel needed his help, and he's not planning on losing without putting up a fight.

Now, he's walking briskly as he made his way towards the shared bathroom, with slippers this time. His bladder was killing him. 

“Yeah, well, these boots are never walking out on you.”

Sam heard Dean say the moment he set foot in the bathroom. There was an unusual, subtle heat emanating inside but he didn’t have the time to ponder about it as Benny’s drawl followed shortly after.

“That ain’t how the song goes.”

_They’re still here?_

“What song—? Hey, look who decided to come out of his cave,” Dean greeted with a lazy, teasing smile, half of his face covered in shaving cream. He was sitting on the long, marbled sink and wedged between his parted legs was Benny, holding up a straight razor against his exposed neck. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Halting, Sam only scrunched up his nose in response.

“Stay still,” Benny instructed Dean and made a smooth upward motion with the blade, shaving Dean’s day-old stubble with his surprisingly nimble hands.

The two were only wearing bathrobes but Sam wasn’t actually planning on staring especially when Dean’s robe was partly open, revealing a lot of skin on his front. Instead, he marched on towards one of the urinals, ignoring more of his brother’s antics. Sure, Dean meant well but he had business to do.

“Hey, Sam, you hungry?” Dean asked, thankfully, after Sam had zipped up and was now washing his hands. “There’s leftovers in the fridge. Benny could reheat it if you want.”

“No, I'm fine, thanks.”

“You sure?” Dean said before twisting and bending down uncomfortably to rinse his face in the basin next to Sam's. It’d be easier for him if he hopped off the sink but apparently he preferred the hard way. Or maybe that wasn’t the case.

Still comfortably snug between Dean's bowed legs, Benny offered Sam a small nod, wordlessly confirming he wouldn't mind giving the leftover Cajun shrimp scampi rice a toss in the pan.

Shaking his hands dry, Sam insisted, “No, really, I'm fine.” It was tempting, really, but the closeness of these two urged him to get the hell out of there. They’re weirding him out. In the corner of his eye, Benny struggled to shift in his spot while reaching for a towel.

That was when Sam noticed the vampire wasn't purposely being inappropriate; crossed on the small of his back, Dean's boot-clad ankles were keeping him in place.

Sam scoffed at the sight, the corner of his mouth was threatening to break a smile. He had forgotten about that pair of boots – Dean's lucky boots. It's a replica of the ones Dr. Sexy had worn in that medical drama series Dean used to watch.

_These boots are never walking out on you._

Sam couldn't help but shake his head in either amusement or embarrassment – or both. How high school his hopeless romantic of a brother could get? 

“The hell's wrong with you, man?”

Sam jerked on his feet, and in panic turned the water back on to wet his hands for the second time.

“You were smiling,” Dean pointed out, pat drying his face with the towel Benny handed him. “Did you hit your head or something?”

Sam chose not to answer, knowing how this kind of conversation usually went, instead he took a deep breath and shook his hands dry, only to stop mid-shake when his nose caught a whiff of something out of the ordinary.

The bunker’s bathroom normally had this mixed smell of cheap soaps, hygiene products, and air fresheners. The place smelled clean, close to sanitized. But there’s something thick in the air that gave Sam the heebie-jeebies, as Dean might call it.

“You know that this’ll be easier if you do it yourself, right?” Benny drawled, drawing Dean's attention from Sam.

“Nah, you do it.” Dean flashed Benny an easy smile, his eyes gleaming with affection, Sam noticed. He tipped his head back and added, “Besides, I like the attention.”

Mirroring Dean’s smile, Benny simply sighed, as though he had been expecting it, and squeezed a gel onto his palm.

_What is that?_

Sam instinctively sniffed the air.

 _Sharp… woodsy… spicy… and refreshing. Nope, that’s not what I_ — _Hey, that’s my aftershave!_

Although he was a little annoyed at Dean for using his stuff, again, Sam took another lungful of air; it wasn’t what he had smelled earlier. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious. _Sniff._ Like a bloodhound, he tried to track that distinct scent to figure out what it was. _Sniff._ He’s totally ignoring how Dean melted into Benny’s touch. _Sniff, sniff._ No, he’s not hearing the low, rumbling moan coming from Dean. 

Another sniff until— _Is that bleach?_ Sam thought when he picked up chlorine's pungent odor. “You guys clean here?”

Benny’s hands froze mid-air at the question, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Dean who quickly covered them with his before clasping them together between their half-naked bodies. 

“Well...” Dean started and paused, staring at Benny who got this pleading look in his eyes. Thumb absently caressing the back of Benny’s hand, his smile grew into a grin. “We did spend a lot of time on our knees,” he addressed Sam, “but we ain’t exactly scrubbing the floor, if you catch my drift.”

Benny made a sound of embarrassment in the back of his throat, a blush creeping into his pale skin. Dean, on the other hand, let out a full-bellied laugh that reverberated inside the bathroom. 

_Oh God._ “What are you animals?” was Sam's half-horrified, half-shocked response. His gut churned as realization dawned on him of what he had been inhaling for the past minute. The palpable heat he had felt earlier should be a dead giveaway. Sex. Their ventilation system didn’t help much as the trace of spunk still lingered in the air. “Unbelievable. People go here all the time. One of us might walk in on you, doing who knows what! Did you at least clean here?”

“Shut up, Sam, I’m happy,” Dean said as he wrapped an arm around Benny who, in response, cautiously let himself be embraced, burying his face on Dean’s bare chest. “I’m happy,” he repeated, whispered into Benny’s ear.

And Sam saw it, the littlest details Dean made to make sure the words sank into Benny; that he was wanted. The firm squeeze on his shoulder, the subtle whiff Dean did on his short hair, and the not-so-discreet kiss Dean planted on his temple. 

_If only Benny could see Dean’s face right now_ , Sam thought to himself, calming down. His brother wasn’t just looking all relaxed, and _sated_. Sure, Dean had this post-coital glow, but it wasn’t what Sam was seeing in the small, genuine smile plastered on his brother’s face. It’s an honest to God smile Sam thought Dean had lost through the years. Innocent. Content. And pure.

_At least one of us is happy._

“Besides,” Dean continued, snapping Sam out of his thought, “everyone’s out. If they’re here then we wouldn't have done it _twice_ ,” and as if accentuating the word twice wasn’t enough, Dean held up two fingers in the air and repeated, “Twice.”

Sam groaned, a smile slipped across his mouth, and just like that, Dean’s face reverted back to what he would describe as normal, cheeky and confident. 

There’s some sort of a welcoming vibe about these two that had Sam relaxing, how they talked, laughed, and interacted around each other. No. Now that he took the time to think about it, watched them closely, Dean and Benny were nothing but welcoming. After Eileen had left, they were there to check up on him for the past days, asking if he’d eaten yet, convincing Castiel to hang out with him, or something. He’d perceived them as annoying but they were genuinely concerned, it seemed, especially Dean.

“Give me that.” Casting Sam a look that was somewhere between apprehensive and apologetic, Benny pushed himself off of Dean, as far as Dean’s legs would let him, and grabbed the hunter’s suggestive fingers. “I apologize you have to see this.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine,” Dean assured and comfortably kissed Benny’s knuckles in front of Sam.

“Yeah. No, it’s fine.” Sam agreed, ready to make an exit. 

“See. We grew up together, he'd seen me naked multiple times,” Dean added, “Then there's this one time he caught me having a threesome with the Doublemint twins. One of them was sitting on my face while her twin sister was busy jumping up and down on my—”

“Okay!” Sam interrupted, not wanting to remember his brother’s hairy butt, “I’ll, uh, leave you guys alone.”

Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction, a little proud of embarrassing him, but Benny was quick to nudge him on the ribs to shut him up.

Sam was about to step out of the bathroom when a thought came to mind, halting in his tracks. It wasn’t much but it could mean the world to Dean, the one who had done and sacrificed everything for him. If he could talk Benny into staying, to be with Dean before the impending end of the world, then that’s what he would do. 

Dean deserved to be happy.

“Benny,” Sam started, bracing himself against the doorframe, “you should, uh, ahem, you should stay.”

Dean’s smile dropped for a fraction of a second, Sam would have easily missed it if he blinked, then it was plastered back in place. He opened his mouth and was about to say something when Benny lightly squeezed his hand. Dean squeezed back.

“I’ll think about it.” Benny spared Sam a glance before returning his focus on Dean.

“Benny,” Sam called again and watched Benny's eyes flutter, closed and open, as his brother cupped the vampire’s face, thumb caressing the bearded cheek. “I mean it. This is home. And you're welcome to live with us. You don’t have to be on the run anymore. No more hiding. You belong here.”

An appreciative nod was all Sam got from the vampire, his mouth was downturned in sullen contemplation. And for a moment, Sam thought he had stepped over the line with what he had said, until Benny looked at him, really looked at him for the first time, and flashed him a smile. The apprehension in Benny’s blue eyes faded and was replaced with a glint of gratitude.

Benny then craned his neck and pressed a reassuring chaste kiss on Dean’s freshly-shaven jaw.

This was the most affectionate Sam had seen Benny. Although to be fair, he and Benny were barely acquainted, hadn’t been in the same room for more than five minutes. A couple of polite nods here and there and that was it. In addition to that, he’d been cooped up in his room in the past two days, brooding, and hadn’t made an effort to know the man.

Dean, his bravado gone, pulled Benny in for another one-armed hug, resting his chin on Benny’s head. The expression in his eyes was nothing but grateful. “Leftovers are in the fridge,” he reminded Sam, changing the topic, “Microwave it or whatever.”

“Sure.”

Without another word, Sam took it as his cue to make his exit. And once outside, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Damn, talk about not minding my own business, he thought, but on the other hand, the look Dean had given him made it all worth it.

The Bunker’s interior was cold as Sam trudged its half-lit hallway towards anywhere but back there, because behind him the familiar sounds of shuffling and labored breaths returned.

_Are those growls?_

Sam brushed off the noise and hastened his steps, only to slow down when he spotted a familiar silhouette bearing a long trench coat coming down the staircase at the end of the hall.

Castiel.

Another figure appeared behind the angel and that was when Sam’s feet came to an abrupt halt. His heart began to race. Eileen, she’s as beautiful as he remembered. Time then decided to slow down to the beat of Eric Clapton’s ‘Wonderful Tonight’, as he watched her descend the stairs with a fond smile, watched her delicate fingers trace its metal railings. Or something Dean would describe as a chick flick moment.

Reaching the bottom, Eileen spotted him and greeted him with a small wave, her eyes all weary and apologetic.

“You’re back,” Sam choked out, not remembering closing their gap with a couple of strides. All he knew was he wanted to be close to her, to wrap her in his arms, instead he was careful not to crowd her and stood at arm’s length. 

“I’m back.” 

She adjusted her bag as she spoke, and Sam was quick to offer taking it.

“Yep, we’re back!” Jack chirped behind Eileen, announcing himself. He walked past them and went straight beside Castiel who was staring intently at the hall, his brows knitted in a tight frown.

_“Mm fuck… yes, just like that… nice and easy.”_

A faint, inaudible string of moans traveled the hallway.

Sam, Castiel, and Jack heard it. But Eileen, bless her heart, didn’t and just stood there, looking up at Sam through her lashes. Dark circles were visible under her eyes on closer inspection.

“What is that?” Jack asked Castiel in curious innocence.

Castiel shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

_“You’re getting good at that… c’mere let me—”_

“There it is again!” Jack proceeded to pull out his EMF meter from his jacket. “Guys, I think there’s a ghost in the bunker.”

“There is no ghost here.”

“What are those noises then?”

“Have you ever tried Mexica food?” Castiel said instead, completely ignoring Jack’s question. “How about we get you a chimichanga?”

“Chimichanga?” Jack repeated with wide-eyed enthusiasm. The moans and whimpers were forgotten in an instant. “That’s a funny word.”

“And it is also delicious.”

Castiel was handling the awkward situation without breaking a sweat. The angel then easily ushered a curious Jack back towards the stairs. Seconds later, they were gone.

“Sam?”

Eileen put a hand on Sam’s arm and snapped his attention back to her. Except Sam’s gaze had never left her, albeit the chaos that was his family. They’re nothing but white noise to him, as he traced her face with his eyes, restraining himself not to kiss her.

He blinked once, twice. “Yeah?”

“Can we talk? I just want to apologize about—”

“Wait,” Sam said and signed at the same time, interrupting Eileen; her bag almost slipped from his shoulder. “I mean, you have nothing to apologize for.” 

Eileen’s shoulders relaxed as Sam continued,

“You needed space to clear your head. To think about everything that happened. And now you’re here. You’re here and that’s what matters. Can we just… can we just enjoy this?”

A pause, then Eileen nodded in agreement; she had a relieved smile on her face but her red-rimmed eyes were on the verge of tears. And that was enough. More than enough. The faintest changes of her features spoke louder than the comforting words Sam was yearning to hear.

Without a thought, Sam reached up to cup her face, and that was when a surge of emotion welled up inside her. She opened her mouth but the words died in her throat; tears ran free down her cheek.

Sam couldn’t hold back anymore and carefully put down Eileen’s bag and pulled her in a warm embrace, burying his nose into her hair as she clutched onto his strong arms.

“Thank you,” Eileen said against his chest, to which he answered by tightening his arms around her, like the first time when he had brought her back.

They stayed like that for a while, a minute or two. Probably a solid five. Sam lost track of time, but as if it mattered anyway. He’d hold her as long as he could, as long as she’d let him, thinking they both needed this in their numbered days.

He stole a whiff of her coconut scented shampoo and closed his eyes, only to open them again when he heard,

_“‘M close… do me harder...”_

But Sam wouldn’t let it spoil the mood, and kept his focus on Eileen, her soft, contented sighs.

“Hey, uh, you want to grab something to eat?” Sam finally said after a moment. Eileen had recomposed herself. “I was on my way to the kitchen, maybe you would like to, um...”

“I’d love to.”

“Th-that’s great. Benny made Cajun rice.” Sam picked up Eileen’s bag and something clinked inside. “What’s in this anyway? It’s heavy.”

Sam then gestured towards the kitchen.

“It’s Tequila.”

“Tequila.”

“Yeah. And lemons. And orange liqueur.” She started walking, and Sam followed her. “I was thinking we need to talk this over Margaritas.”

“Margaritas?” Sam signed beside Eileen, amused. “We could do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day!


End file.
